A Dusted Grey Cross

In the turning and stepping 

away from my pastor, 

tears were springing to my eyes. 

A dusted grey cross 

marked my bowed forehead 

and a soul deep humility 

marked my heart. 

Return to the Lord, your God,  

for He is gracious and merciful. 

Joel 2: 13

The Spirit within pulsed, swelled, 

and joy erupted in warmth 

across my face. 

A candle lit sanctuary, 

hushed in the sacred of forgiving, 

veiled the emotion of communion 

between God’s spirit 

and this grateful heart.

Then God made you alive with Christ. 

He forgave all our sins. 

He canceled the record 

that contained the charges 

against us. 

He took it and destroyed it 

by nailing it to Christ's cross. 

 Colossians 2:13-14

Gaining composure 

through the measured, steady pace 

back to the rows of pews, 

I sensed the streaming pilgrimage 

of so many all around me. 

Moving in turn, to receive the same mark

 scrawled across a bowed head. 

Were tears welling up, 

and hearts swelling up, 

all along these aisles? 

Once seated, did hands like mine, 

reach for Bibles to scour for favorite 

Psalms of remorse and praising? 

Were ashes giving way to beauty?

This post was already written when the Inbox revealed Emily’s exquisite post. Visit her at Imperfect Prose. She has much to share about the work of ashes.  

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